


Love Will be the Death of You

by Shotgun_sinner



Series: Love Will be the Death of You [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Gratuitous Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Doesn't Care, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_sinner/pseuds/Shotgun_sinner
Summary: From a Twitter Hannibal prompt from @corneliagrey. Thanks for being my God damn muse.Will's figured out that Hannibal is the Ripper. Hannibal framed him, and he's a murderer, and Will hates him.Now if only he could stop fucking him, that'd be grand.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Love Will be the Death of You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935490
Comments: 37
Kudos: 431





	Love Will be the Death of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorneliaGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorneliaGrey/gifts).



> So CorneliaGrey posted this prompt on Twitter, and I sat here for 4 hours just pounding this out. It's kinda crack treated seriously, and it's barely been proofread. I hope you enjoy smutty smut. I enjoyed writing it.

Will doesn't wait around once he's let out of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He gets a cab and pays a wild amount of money on a credit card for the cab to take him directly to his house, where he can get his gun. This is it. The last straw. Hannibal was a serial killer and a fucking cannibal, besides. No one believed him, no one cared to listen, and he would take matters into his own hands.  


He takes a shower because he hadn't done so at the hospital, changing into clothes that are dark in color. He very intentionally leaves his after-shave off, as he doesn't want Hannibal to know he's about to have his brains blown out the moment he walks in the door. He takes his gun and three bullets. He won't need more than that as he's going for a headshot, anyway.  


He heads over to Hannibal's house, parking three blocks away so he wouldn't notice Will's car. He picks the lock and makes his way inside, locking it back up behind him. When Hannibal got home, he was dead.  


He waits and he waits. The smell of Hannibal's home is... soothing. The very notion of that pisses Will off, because it shouldn't be. He's a murderous cannibal, nothing about that should be soothing in the least. He put Will in jail for crimes that he himself committed, then acted like an indignant asshole when Will called him on it. He let Will's brain cook in his head, stuffing body parts down his throat while he was seizing. He had earned his right to die, and Will would deliver it to him.  


He waits more, sitting in the gloomy dark of Hannibal's kitchen when he hears the front door.  


He slams himself to the floor, hidden behind the kitchen island. Hannibal comes into the kitchen immediately, opening the fridge to rummage in it. Will stands up, clicks the hammer back on his pistol, and aims it directly at Hannibal's head.  


Hannibal freezes, turning very, very, slowly towards Will, one eyebrow cocked intriguingly as though this is a fucking game.  


"Will," he greets cordially. "It's good to see you."  


"Fuck you," Will spits. His hand shakes slightly as he's pointing the gun, and he straightens his spine with resolve that he could do this. He could shoot him. He wanted this.  


So when Hannibal steps up to him and takes the gun from his hand as though he's giving it away, he's shocked, to say the least. His rage fuels him to act with his hands, which is, he reasons, the likely excuse for his hesitation with the gun. He's always wanted to kill Hannibal with his hands. The gun felt too impersonal.  


He lunges for the older man, slamming his body into his fridge. Hannibal fights to keep Will's wrists away from his throat, the both of them landing awkward punches to each other's faces as they struggle against the fridge.  


Will takes both of Hannibal's wrists in one hand and slams them over his head, pinning him to the fridge with his body so his other hand can come up and crush his windpipe. Hannibal isn't even fighting him anymore, and Will's grip on his throat relaxes in confusion as Hannibal thrusts his hips gently against Will's thigh, moaning through the grip of Will's fingers.  


Will feels like iced water has been poured over him. He's numb everywhere as Hannibal shifts against his leg again, their chests heaving against one another. He slides his fingers from Hannibal's throat and upward, through his perfectly coifed hair, tugging it roughly. His own erection is absolutely pulsing in his slacks, and he is so fucking pissed off that Hannibal made it into this. He grips Hannibal's hair and drags his mouth down, crushing him in a kiss that's more teeth and nipping than anything else. Neither one of them seem to mind too much, as they keep tearing each other's mouths apart and grinding against one another mindlessly.  


Hannibal moves first, twisting out of the grip that Will has on his wrists easily, shucking off his jacket and blazer while Will tears his own coat and shirt off. Their mouths are still clashing together as they're shedding their own clothes and each other's, Hannibal backing Will up against the kitchen counter. Will twists them, bracing Hannibal's front against the cabinets, thrusting roughly against the seam of his ass once they're naked. Hannibal is built like a brick shithouse, all packed muscle and corded shoulders, and Will's cock is dripping just looking at him.  


He reaches forward and snatches the olive oil from the counter. Some fucking extra virgin cold pressed shit that probably cost more than Will makes in a day, and Will is pouring it over his palm to slick himself. Hannibal is moaning, arching his spine invitingly, and Will presses two fingers into him, stretching him out a bit so he doesn't break Will's dick off when he slides in.  


Will presses in, and the heat and constriction around his cock makes him sob. "Fuck," he moans. "Christ, Hannibal."  


Hannibal is incoherent, one hand reached behind him to grab at one of Will's hips hard enough to bruise, and two can play at that game. Will grabs hold of Hannibal's hips and snaps his roughly, drilling Hannibal's prostate as Hannibal makes pitiful, desperate noises. "Don't mistake this," Will says roughly, each word enunciated with a harsh snap of his hips. "I'm going to kill you. I swear to you, I'll kill you."  


"Of course, Will," Hannibal chokes, leaning away from the counter to press his back to Will's front. "Of course, later. Fuck me."  


Will obliges, reaching around Hannibal's waist to tug at his thick cock that he hasn't had a chance to actually look at, yet. It's impressive, but of course it is because everything about Hannibal's physique is impressive.  


The smug, gorgeous, bastard.  


Will braces a hand on his shoulder, dragging him harder back against him as he thrusts harder and deeper. It feels like he's so deep Hannibal should be choking on him, but he's not. He's moaning, but not choking. Completely the opposite of where Will wanted this night to go.  


Will's balls ache from the harsh slapping against Hannibal's ass, and his nerve-endings are on fire. Hannibal bellows out as he comes all over his pristine cabinets, and his ass clamps down around Will, tearing his orgasm from him as he pounds it into Hannibal's gaping hole.  


Once he's come back down to earth, he's fucking mortified. He scrubs a hand across his face, pulling out of Hannibal carelessly, earning a flinch from the older man as he stays hunched over the counter. "That was unexpected," Hannibal chuckles.  


Will is pulling his pants back on quickly, and Hannibal calls his name as he leaves the house, still buttoning his shirt as he dashes down the sidewalk.  


Will regroups back at his house. He had no fucking idea where that came from, but his body is still sore from some of the roughest, best sex he's had in his life, and it was with a fucking cannibal. A god damned serial killer. What the fuck was wrong with him?  


His resolve was back in full-force. This was an... unexpected development. Nothing that he couldn't overcome. He'd use a knife, next time. Hannibal wouldn't have time to put his dick on Will's leg or anywhere else, because Will would cut it off.  


He puts the dogs outside, chewing his bottom lip as he freezes out on the porch. He had to stay focused. He had to save lives.  


The next night, it's their usual night for their seven-thirty appointment, and Will thinks it might be cathartic to kill him in his office where it all started. He sharpens his kitchen knife, marveling at the glint of the edge. He takes a quick shower, and puts the dogs outside for a bit before taking off.  


He arrives at seven-thirty on the dot, and Hannibal pulls his door open as a wave of mild surprise rolls over his face. "Will, what can I do for you?"  


"It's seven-thirty," Will says with a raised eyebrow. "You kept my appointment open."  


"I did," Hannibal admits as Will strolls into the room.  


Will takes the knife that he has hidden under the coat that's hanging over his forearm, turning quickly and pressing Hannibal to the door with the blade pressed to his jugular. "I just sharpened it, so I'd be careful if I were you."  


"Is this going to be a pattern? Should I leave the door unlocked so you can come try to kill me every night?"  


"You're dying tonight, Doctor Lecter. Do you think you don't deserve it? You eat people. You kill people. Abigail. Beverly. Have you no God damn remorse for anything that you've done to me?"  


"I don't know wh-"  


"-Don't fucking finish that sentence or I swear to God I will cut you open like a fish. Don't lie to me anymore. Don't pretend with me. I am in no God damned mood, do you hear me?"  


Will had pressed the blade to Hannibal's throat as he started spewing his bullshit, and a trickle of blood had worked it's way from the cut and slid down to Hannibal's pompous shirt collar. "I had to with Abigail," Hannibal says quietly. "Just as I had to with Beverly. I can't say I regret what I've done to you. Look how magnificent you are, standing here in all of your righteous glory. You're a vision, Will. I couldn't have imagined you ever being more beautiful. Do what you need to, at least I'll die happy."  


Will's grip on the blade falters. At least he'll die happy? The fuck?  


"I don't want you to die happy. Did Bev die happy? Did Abigail? Do any of your fucking victims as you cut their organs out of their still breathing bodies? Christ, Hannibal what is wrong with you?"  


"I have predilections, it's true, but don't we all? The people I choose are all guilty, one way or another."  


"And I've judged you as guilty," Will whispers harshly, pressing the blade deeper. Blood wells out from the wound, dripping down his neck and soaking into his collar, and Hannibal's face is... resigned. He isn't going to fight, he's not going to struggle, and it sucks the wind from Will's sails. "Fucking fight me, God damn it!"  


"No," Hannibal replies, tipping his head back to give Will better access.  


Will huffs in annoyance, dropping the blade to the floor where it sticks comically in the wood. He snatches Hannibal's tie and drags his mouth to his own, and Hannibal reacts immediately, grabbing at Will's face and holding it to his as their mouths drag against one another's. His tongue tastes delicious, and Will sucks on it, nipping it gently as they stumble back into the room, Will's back bracing against the ladder that leads to the loft area.  


They're shucking their clothes aggressively, each eyeing one another in a well-lit room this time, and Will is throbbing just looking at him. His skin is fucking bronze, which means he goes tanning or some other ridiculous shit because it's Maryland and it's wintertime. He can't bring himself to say anything, because he's gorgeous, all lean golden muscles and masculine chest hair. Even his thighs are fucking corded with muscles, and Will wonders when he has the time to maintain this physique.  


Even his dick is something else. He's uncut, in the way most European men are, but it's long, thick, and curved slightly upward. He dick stands just as haughtily as Hannibal does, looking regal even naked.  


Such a prick.  


He's looking at Will like he's found Jesus, his eyes sliding over all of him while his mouth hangs in awe. "Are you going to fuck me or should I have just killed you?" Will sasses.  


Hannibal grins, bending to pick up his pants to fish out a little bottle of lube. "Turn around," Hannibal orders. The low, gravelly tone of his voice makes Will shiver, and he does what he's told. He expects a finger or two in his ass as he braces his arms through the rungs of the ladder. He doesn't expect Hannibal to spread his cheeks and lick into his hole like he's starving for it.  


Will's hips snap with the contact, and he's mewling as Hannibal presses his tongue just inside, lapping gently at the muscle. This is too fucking personal, and Will is about to complain. Really, he is, just as soon as he can remember how to vocalize something, he's going to bitch. Hannibal's mouth is all over him, suckling testicles, laving at his hole, tapping against his perineum, and this is, without a doubt, the most invasive sexual experience in Will's life.  


Hannibal pulls away eventually, and Will's throat whines in protest, even as Hannibal presses two fingers that he's lubed up into his wet hole. Hannibal curls the fingers up, dragging against Will's prostate on every stroke, and Will's entire body is vibrating with pleasure. Each rub against it causes white-hot throbs of satisfying pleasure to roll across his whole body. If Hannibal doesn't fuck him now, and soon, this will be over before it starts.  


Hannibal turns Will around, pressing him back against the ladder with his body, licking into his mouth as he drags their cocks together with his long fingers and a blob of lube. It feels exquisite, and Will arches into his fist, demanding something be done, and soon.  


Hannibal tears away from his mouth, kissing downward, sucking bruises into Will's throat, collarbones, chest, and stomach. He's going to look like someone tried to eat him after this, and Will is idly wondering if he even owns a turtleneck when Hannibal presses his forearms between Will's thighs, hoisting him up so his knees hang over each of his forearms and his back braces rather uncomfortably against the ladder. Hannibal doesn't even look perturbed, carrying Will's entire weight in his arms. He adjusts, and the head of his cock is spearing his wide-open hole, and Hannibal is dropping him down over it.  


Will arches his spine as his prostate is brutalized, but there's no where for him to go. He can't put his feet down, he can't arch away. Instead, he reaches up and grasps the railings, taking some of the weight of his body off of Hannibal's elbows, not that Hannibal seems to notice in the least.  


He's glistening with sweat, now, as his cock pulverizes Will's prostate. His pace is relentless, and Will somehow finds a moment to feel sorry for Alana.  


"Fuck, Hannibal, fuck," he's wailing, as their slick bodies slap together. Hannibal looks ferally beautiful, his mouth open but twisted up in a smirk, his eyes dark and fathomless as he fucks into Will's body with abandon. Will wants to take his cock in his hand, but he can't. He can't even manage it, not with the sharp bursts of pleasure electrocuting his nerves.  


Hannibal seems to notice Will's aborted attempts to get to his own dick, and he snaps his hips up harder, slamming Will's back against the ladder. "You'll come from my cock alone, Will. Do you hear me?"  


"Fuck," Will sobs, "please. Please."  


Hannibal slows his pace marginally, seeming to notice maybe for the first time that the ladder probably hurts like fuck, which it does. It also felt like liquid ecstasy, but he can't admit that either.  


Hannibal hoists him up again, carrying him over to the couch, laying back against the cushions while Will straddles his waist. Will adjusts himself on his knees, looking down at Hannibal with a smirk. He lifts his hips slowly, taking himself to the blunt ridge of Hannibal's cock, and slams back down. The abrupt friction on his prostate feels so fucking good, that Will arches his spine and rides him.  


This is fucking even better than the ladder, as Will can adjust himself and angle Hannibal's perfect cock, striking his prostate like a match to gasoline each time. He feels like he's on fire, and Hannibal is looking up at him like he's a saint whose come down to bless him.  


In a way, Will is.  


He hates this stupid, fucking, serial killer. Hates him. He had to kill him next time. These distractions were merely that. Distractions. They'd get to the main event, eventually.  


But right now, Will is content to lift and drop himself over his cock, his thighs and back screaming that they'd had enough. Will takes the hint, dropping his weight and grinding down, rolling the head of Hannibal's cock relentlessly against his prostate, and that's all it takes. He's coming, his head thrown back as thick ropes of come streak across Hannibal's chest and abdomen, his body convulsing around Hannibal's cock. Will is vaguely aware that Hannibal is throbbing hotly inside of him, hot ropes of come painting his insides as Hannibal snaps his hips up, milking himself through it.  


They're wrecked, laid out of the couch. Will doesn't even remember slumping against Hannibal, and he's vaguely mortified because this could be considered cuddling, and he can't have that.  


His muscles won't do anything about it right now, though, so he lays sprawled across Hannibal as the older man presses wet kisses to his sweaty hair and neck. "Oh, Will," he sighs. "My Will," he praises.  


Will's heart constricts, and he wonders if he's about to have a heart attack from all the athletic sex he's been having. Surely it couldn't be anything else.  


Will sits up lazily, pressing his fingers to Hannibal's mouth. "Don't... kiss me. It's... we're not cuddling."  


Hannibal grins under Will's fingers, puckering his lips and pressing a kiss to the pads of his middle and index finger. Will snorts as he looks down at him, kissing Will's fingers while his hands trace lazy patterns on his thighs. "Stubborn God damned cannibal," he chastises quietly.  


Hannibal grins wider, nipping at his fingers. "That's quite rude, Will."  


Will yanks his fingers away from sharp teeth, laughing despite the audacity of it. "What're you going to do, eat me, Doctor Lecter?"  


"Fairly certain I just did," Hannibal grins. "Although I look forward to tasting you as you finish. Maybe next time."  


Will blushes hotly, both with desire and with shame. There'd be no next time. Will was killing him before there would be a next time. This was it.  


Will stands on shaky legs, struggling to put his pants on as he feels Hannibal's come leaking down his thighs. Not only would there be a walk of shame, but it would be an uncomfortable one.  


Hannibal sighs as he watches him, lounging languidly on the couch in all his nudity. Will can't look at him as he gathers his clothes, his face burning in shame as he pulls his shoes on.  


"Should I leave my door unlocked for your third attempt? I must say I look forward to it."  


"This was the last time, Hannibal. I'm serious. Defend yourself, next time. I am not going to hesitate tomorrow."  


Hannibal tilts his head as he regards him, a faint smile on his mouth. "You're beautiful, Will. See you soon."  


Will makes a noise of protest in his throat as he hauls ass out of the office. There isn't a muscle on his body that isn't sore right now, and he's so fucked out he feels like he's walking across a boat that's at sea. Why couldn't the sex be bad? Why couldn't Hannibal not be the most gorgeous man he's ever seen in his life? Why can't Hannibal not provoke these fucking... feelings. These unfortunate God damned feelings.  


He's a murderer that's framed Will for his own crimes. He's a sadistic fuck who eats real, live, people. And all of it should piss Will off so much that sliding a blade in Hannibal would feel like Christmas morning.  


But it doesn't. He might be a sadistic fuck, but he's also Will's only friend. He knows Will, and that's including all the dark and twisty shit that lives in Will's head. He might be a cannibal, but it's just not as offensive as it should be. Will should be disgusted and upset. He should be fucking vengeful that Hannibal's fed him human beings.  


But he's not. He wants to be, but the emotion is just kind of... absent.  


The rage is a low simmer, now. He's half-certain Hannibal has manipulated him to this point. Will isn't a murderer. He isn't... a psychopath. Not at his core, anyway. Everyone has urges, what makes the difference is how you deal with them.  


His resolve is steeled as he drives home. Tomorrow night, Hannibal will die. And Will would be the one to kill him.  


Will drives to Hannibal's house the following night, his knuckles white as they clench the steering wheel. Tonight is the night. Come hell or high water, he isn't touching Hannibal's dick.  


He will not be touching him at all, actually. His gun is tucked in the back of his slacks, and even though he wants the intimacy of killing him with his bare hands or a knife, his cock apparently likes the intimacy of being close like that. He is not going to let it sway him this time.  


He parks his car, going up the steps of his porch, and walks straight into the house. Knocking and doorbells aren't necessary for murder, and when he finds Hannibal having dinner with Alana, well, his vision goes red.  


He's been giving Hannibal the best fucking sex of his life, and he still invites Alana to God damn dinner. His fists are clenched by his sides as he chuffs air through his teeth, his eyes glaring daggers at Hannibal, who somehow manages to look surprised to see him. "Will, what a surprise," he greets him formally. "Come in, we were just sitting down to eat. I'll get you a plate."  


"Hey, Will." Alana says carefully as Hannibal escapes to the kitchen. "Why are you here?"  


_Why is he here_. "I have a right to be here, same as you," he spits.  


Her eyebrows pinch at the choice of words he picked, and she bites her lip. "You always just barge in like that? I thought you believed he was a killer?"  


Will's vision is swimming, and he forces himself to sit down to the right of Hannibal's chair robotically. "I was wrong, clearly. I've spent the last two nights with him after being released, clearing the air between us."  


Her mouth is pinched as she stares at him, and Hannibal comes back into the room with a complete service of plates and silverware, as well as a wine glass. He sets Will's place setting, and Will wants nothing more than to throw them on the floor and fuck Hannibal into the broken dishes.  


"I didn't realize you were having a date tonight," Will says icily. "When I left your office last night, I told you I'd see you today."  


"Oh?" Hannibal says coolly. "Did you? I must have missed it."  


He didn't fucking miss a thing, the lying liar. "Do you think it's a good idea for you to resume therapy with Hannibal?" Alana asks. "Don't you think that after everything that's happened it might be better to get a referral?"  


Will takes a bite of the most tender meat he has ever eaten, sighing at the burst of thyme and red wine on his tongue. He wonders what this poor soul has done to end up on his plate, but it is so good he doesn't particularly care. "I would say yes, but seeing as how I only fucked him, it can't be considered therapy."  


He keeps eating as Alana drops her fork in her plate, and Hannibal groans to his side as he adjusts his tie that probably feels too tight at the moment. "What did you say?" Alana asks indignantly.  


Will uses his fork to spear another fingerling potato from the platter, earning another groan from Hannibal at the head of the table. "I said, it wasn't therapy. It was only fucking."  


Her mouth is hanging open as she stares at Will, who eats like he hasn't had a bite in years, then to Hannibal whose face is turning interesting colors as he sits there, flabbergasted. "Will, that's... jokes like that aren't appropriate at the dinner table."  


Alana has the nerve to look relieved. "That was a joke? I honestly never know where the two of you are with one another."  


Will arches his eyebrow at her, turning to look at Hannibal meaningfully. "We know where we are with each other, don't we?" Hannibal swallows, his mouth tight as he nods in agreement. "Last night he was inside of me, the night before I was inside of him. Tonight I'm thinking a little of each, what do you say to that?"  


Alana spits her food into her plate, standing up abruptly. "I think you need to leave, Will. You aren't right. You still need help."  


Hannibal is watching him, clearly not hearing a thing Alana said after he suggested they fuck one another stupid tonight. Will's eyes are on his, and they're pregaming with a good eye-fucking as Alana realizes that she's the odd one out, not Will.  


"Hannibal?" she whispers.  


"I'm sorry, Alana. I... This is horribly unforgiveable to ask, but perhaps we could reschedule for another night."  


"He will not be rescheduling with you another night, or any night. Hannibal's nights are full, I'm afraid."  


Her mouth hangs open more, her face tinged pink in disbelief. "Are you kicking me out so you can fuck him? Are you kidding me right now? Will, what the hell is Jack going to say about this?"  


"Whatever he wants. Please leave. I'm putting my mouth on him in sixty seconds, whether you're here or not."  


"This is absurd! Hannibal, I deserve better than this! This is... disgusting!"  


"forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six,"  


"You were his therapist!"  


"Not in any official capacity, I wasn't."  


"Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three,"  


"Official capacity? You were supposed to be his support system! How long?"  


"Two days, Alana, it's not been going on the whole time."  


"Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight,"  


"Will, please. This is... uncouth. Even for you." Hannibal's eyes glare at him, but his mouth is quirked ever so gently with the edge of a grin. He doubts Alana even notices it.  


"So that's it? This is how I find out that you're cheating?"  


"We aren't exclusive, there has never been a discussion."  


"Four, three, two, one. Time to go, Alana."  


He lunges for Hannibal, dragging his mouth to Will's own by tugging his tie. Will's tongue snakes past his tight lips, and Hannibal groans as he opens up to allow it. They hear the front door slam shut, and they're on one another. "Bed, please, Hannibal. I can't fuck on another hard surface today."  


Hannibal picks him up and throws him over his shoulder like he's a fucking firefighter, and Will yelps as his food is smashed in his stomach on his hard shoulder. "The fuck? Put me down!"  


Hannibal slaps his ass, hard. "Do you think what you did down there was appropriate? My reputation, Will. What were you thinking?" He slaps Will's ass again as he goes up the stairs, and Will leans forward and bites Hannibal's ass, hard. Hannibal yelps as he throws Will onto his ridiculous, plush bed.  


"What were you thinking inviting her here? I am here to kill you, and you have a dinner party? If I wouldn't have shown up, would you have fucked her? I could strangle the life out of you right now."  


"You're here to kill me," Hannibal says lowly as he strips from his stuffy suit. Long, hard, lines of golden muscle glint in the lamplight and Will palms himself through his jeans just looking at him. "Are you really?"  


"Yes," Will moans, rocking his hips up into his palm. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."  


Hannibal's mouth twists up in a grin, "Were you jealous to see her here tonight?"  


"Did you invite her to make me jealous?"  


Hannibal sighs, tugging Will's pants down his legs and shucking his shoes off. "Do you have to answer every question with a question?"  


Will peels his button down shirt off, laying in the opened fabric as he tugs at his cock. "I hated seeing her here. I don't want you touching anyone else. I'll kill them, Hannibal. Right after I kill you. Alana included."  


"What difference does it make who I see, Will? Don't you want me dead?" Hannibal asks, stroking his cock as he straddles Will's thighs.  


"I don't know," Will chokes out, and he presses his palms into his eyes so hard he sees stars. "I want to hate you. I really do. I want to be disgusted by you, and angry that you've done all the messed up shit that you've done, but I don't. I... understand you. I get why you do what you do. I get the power it gives you. I am just like you, and I hate myself for it."  


Hannibal pulls his hands from his eyes, tipping his head as he looks down at Will. "We are the same."  


"Yes," Will agrees harshly. "You're all I think about. You're all I want. I want to see you covered in blood after a kill. I want to know what you smell like when you do. I want to taste your skin after you've fought someone off, your God damn chest all sweaty. I ache for you, you miserable bastard."  


Hannibal's eyes are suspiciously wet, and he's looking down at Will like he hung the stars. "I love you, Will. You can have anything you want. You want me sweaty and murderous, point me in the right direction. You can see me, touch me, taste me, smell me. I am yours."  


Will shudders under him, and he sits up to glide their mouths together, gentle tongues lapping and tasting one another. Will's fingers lace through his hair, cradling his head so he can angle it, deepening their kiss as Hannibal slots himself between Will's spread thighs, rocking their cocks together softly. Hannibal breaks away from this kiss, trailing wet, hot kisses down his neck, to his collarbone. He bites gently on the tendon in Will's neck, soothing the sting of teeth with a swipe of tongue.  


He laves attention to one nipple, pinching the pebbled flesh with his teeth gently, and flicking his tongue against it. Will is arching against him, the onslaught of sensation is almost too much, and Will knows he's picking up on some of Hannibal's emotions. He's not sure where his own desire and longing end and where Hannibal's begins, but he doesn't much care. He knows he loves this God damned stubborn man, the rest is just details.  


Hannibal nips at his hip bones, trailing his tongue in the ridge of muscle leading to his cock, where he licks from the base to the tip, digging his tongue into the slit roughly. Will bucks off the bed, resting on his elbows so he can watch. Hannibal's eyes are almost maroon in the low light of the room. His cheekbones are striking, with the way he's hollowed out his cheeks to suck Will down his throat. Will is shaking with the sight and feel of it. His tongue is pressing under his cock, and against the head, and wiggling along the tip, and everything he does with his mouth feels like he's being zapped with a cattle prod, it's so fucking shocking.  


"I... I am close, and I don't want to finish like this, Hannibal." Will pleads, fisting probably thousand dollar sheets in his sweaty hands.  


Hannibal slides his mouth off his cock, his lips puffy and wet as he smirks up at Will. "You'll come twice tonight. Maybe three times, if you'll stay."  


"I... I am not a teenager anymore, Hannibal, fuck," Will groans as he's sucked back into liquid velvet heat. He's close, his balls are drawing up, and his toes are curling into the sheets. Hannibal deep throats him, humming low in the back of his throat, and the vibration is so good Will feels it to the back of his teeth. He comes with high moan, his hips pumping desperately into Hannibal's mouth where he spills and spills, his fist tight in Hannibal's hair as he does.  


He can barely move after, as Hannibal cleans him up with his tongue like a contented cat. He slinks back up Will's body, dragging their mouths together so Will can taste himself as Hannibal laps at his tongue. "Are you staying tonight?"  


"Yes," Will says shyly, his eyes glancing away from Hannibal. "I don't always know where your feelings for me end, and mine begin."  


Hannibal presses a kiss to Will's throat, his long fingers tracing the edge of Will's jawline. "Are you talking about your murderous feelings? Because I don't have those for you."  


"I don't mean murderous ones at all, actually. I'm talking about... love. You have a God damn jacked up way of showing it, but I know you love me. I just get snarled up in it. I can't tell where your emotions for me end, and where my love for you begins."  


"You love me, but you'd like to kill me?"  


"I want to kill you. Wanted? Either way it was only because I was mad, and in denial. I really made a scene tonight."  


Hannibal sighs, his mouth quirked up ever so gently. "You made a scene that would have gotten you killed, had you been anyone else."  


"Good thing I'm me. I feel like a death threat from you is more concrete."  


"I assure you, it is. So you no longer wish me dead."  


"You know I had no intention of killing you this whole time, didn't you?" Will asks with a laugh.  


"I was hopeful that you didn't want me dead. I didn't know it for certain, though."  


"I'd like you inside of me, please. Be nice about it, I'm still sore from yesterday," Will smiles as he traces Hannibal's jawline, then his throat with wandering fingers.  


Hannibal's chest shudders as he reaches for lube on the end table, pressing some into his fingertips as he reaches between Will's thighs, lifting his hip to slide a pillow under him for support. Hannibal works in two fingers, stretching gently and probing at his prostate briefly. The pleasure of it is only rolling waves, instead of brutal jabs. Hannibal's hand that isn't working him open is touching Will's chest, his ribs, his thighs, it's like he's trying to memorize Will in this moment, and Will allows his empathy to open a bit, just to get an idea, and he sobs when he does.  


He's seeing himself how Hannibal sees him, and it's... fucking intense. He loves Will so much that the horizons of it are endless. Will is his church, his gospel, his truth. There is no one else. There is nothing else. He can feel the hot throb of desire low in his gut as he's being fingered open. He's aware that Hannibal doesn't want him to leave. Not tonight when they're done, not ever.  


It's devastating and consuming, and Will feels like he's drowning in it as he closes off his gift, his breath coming in gasps. His eyes are watery as he looks at Hannibal, who looks just as devastated as Will feels, judging by the shiny sheen on his whiskey colored eyes. Hannibal's pressing into him, and the stretch and burn is so good that Will sobs through it, a few tears spilling out from his eyes and rushing to his hairline. Hannibal leans forward and collects them with his tongue, pressing kisses to his closed eyelids, and smoothing gentle fingers against the hollow under each eye as he thrusts gently inside of him.  


It's like a closed circuit. Will can feel everything, and everything is so fucking huge and over-whelming that he doesn't know what to do. "Come back to me, Will." Hannibal pleads. "Don't leave."  


Will's eyes open, his chin quivering with the heaviness of the emotions in the room with them. "Where else would I go?"  


Hannibal smiles at that, leaning forward to press their mouths together as he continues thrusting into Will's arching body. It feels so good to have Hannibal this way. It feels even better to know no one else ever will. Will can guarantee it, or else there will be bloodshed.  


"Do you feel this?" Will asks him, in awe of it and afraid of it in equal measure.  


"How could I not, Will," he sighs, tilting his head into the crook of Will's throat, tugging at an earlobe and suckling a bruise against the soft skin below it. "Beautiful," he pants into Will's ear, his breath hot against his skin. Will's own fingers are trailing along corded shoulders and the soft skin of Hannibal's spine. Every inch of him more beautiful than Will could ever imagine.  


He reaches between them and wraps his long fingers around Will's cock, tugging him gently in time with his thrusts. Every down stroke, his prostate is nudged, shooting sparks of pleasure through him that he can't recover from, because his cock is being worked by the hands of a fucking surgeon, and he doesn't stand a chance.  


Will cries out as he comes, clamping around Hannibal's length buried inside of him and spilling over the longest, most beautiful fingers he's ever seen. Hannibal groans at the sight and feel of it, his eyes damp as he stares down at Will and finishes deep in his body, pumping him full of his seed.  


Will wraps his arms around Hannibal's neck and tugs him tight against his torso, pressing kisses to his temple and cheekbones, wondering how the fuck they ended up here, or if this was the only place they've been headed this whole time. "I love you, you know."  


"When you don't want to kill me," Hannibal grins. "And I love you."  


"When you're not fucking with my head," Will laughs. "We need to do better for each other, though. I'm serious."  


"I agree with you," Hannibal sighs, pressing a kiss to his temple, then his mouth. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall at work for you tomorrow."  


"Oh fuck," Will moans. "Do you see the kind of crazy that you make me? Oh my God, I have to call out dead."  


"I must admit, when I invited Alana, I could never have guessed what you would do. You always manage to surprise me."  


"I fucking counted. Out loud. What was I thinking?" Will laughs, covering his face with his hands. "I'm... sorry, by the way. She deserved better than to find out like that."  


Hannibal bites his lip to keep from grinning, "I rather enjoyed it, once I was done having a stroke."  


"What happens now? I mean, I'm not going to keep coming here and trying to kill you."  


"I was hoping you'd stop that," Hannibal laughs, tugging Will's body closer against his own. "We do whatever you like. Although what I'd like is for you to never leave this house."  


"I have seven dogs, how does that make you feel with your original flooring?"  


Hannibal grimaces, "Maybe we find something better suited for the both of us, a halfway point between both of our work."  


"I don't think we have much time left here, anyway," Will sighs. "Jack was believing me, I think. And Chilton is... persuasive. It's not long before we need to leave."  


"You'd come with me, knowing what I am?"  


"Yes," Will promises softly. "All the darkness in you, Hannibal... I have it in me. I don't know what to do with it, yet, but I'll figure it out."  


"I'll show you," Hannibal promises him. "Promise me you won't figure it out by stabbing me in my sleep tonight."  


Will laughs, leaning up to kiss him. "I promise."

  



End file.
